Something I Learned
by Space Toaster
Summary: I learned tonight that it's a bad idea to mess with a guy in face paint. Joker/OC one-shot, rated to be safe


(A/N: There is no purpose for this story other then for me to write somewhat-steamy Joker-y goodness. Read at your own discretion)

Something I Learned

By Space Toaster

I learned very quickly tonight, that it's a very bad idea to mess with a guy in clown make-up. It's around midnight, and Stupid-Me decides to walk home from the café alone. (That's another thing I learned) Gotham is damn creepy at night, especially in the lesser privileged neighborhoods. You see dark alleyways that look ready to swallow you if you get too close. There's a smell of wet pavement and car fumes, with a light hint of garbage and hobo piss, luckily it's not the kind smell you can taste. In my case, you end up hearing noises you're better off not inspecting. I hear the usual noises: passing cars, alley cats mrrowing, distant sirens, people who decide to argue about their personal problems in the middle of the street. The sound of a body slamming into a dumpster however is fairly unfamiliar to me. My attention is drawn to an alleyway to my right, where a dim floodlight on the wall shows me the source of the noise. Three men stand over a fourth, who cowers against the dumpster. The third man crouches in front of him, and pulls out a knife. I don't think I should interfere, but..

"HEY!" I break into a run, hoping maybe the three guys will scatter if I come over so I can't identify them or something. They stay put, looking at me like a girl who just broke into a Boys Only clubhouse. I can't see the face of the guy with the knife, he's out of the light. I can feel him looking at me, though…

"Can we help you?" One of the guys standing by smirks while the other one snickers. I'm a 20 year-old five-foot-nothing with a haircut that makes me look like a damn pixie. It's no wonder they aren't the least bit intimidated. I am however, especially when the guy with the knife stands up. He has to be at least six feet tall even with his shoulders hunched, but that's not why I feel ready to piss myself with fright. I'm standing right in front of the Joker. The JOKER. The Clown Prince of Crime! Nobody else in Gotham wears make-up like that, in fact I think red lipstick sales plummeted after he made himself known. I bet the pimps even stopped wearing purple suits because of him. His eyebrows rise at the sight of me, tongue flicking out the corner of his haphazardly painted mouth.

"Well hello there." He smoothes his hair, the color of tile grout, smacking his lips before continuing, using his knife to point at me. "You should get home, I wouldn't want Daddy to spank you for missing curfew." Once again my control over my mouth (or lack thereof) succeeds in getting me into even more trouble.

"At least my parents were actually competent." Oooooh, smooth one, Bliss. You took the speculations about him having a bad childhood and used them in a comeback, really smooth. Watch, he's going to cut your face open now. But he goes silent, smacking his scarlet lips again before looking at his two thugs.

"Take our little friend here around the back." He nudges the half unconscious guy by the dumpster with his foot. "I'll be right with you." Without a word, the two guys grab their 'friend' and drag him around the corner and out of sight. I realize still have legs and turned to run for it. I would've gotten away if not for a gloved hand grabbing me by the back of my belt and a husky voice scolding me.

"Ah ah ah! Where you think you're going, missy?" He pockets the knife for an extra hand and easily drags me into the alley to push me up against the wall. I'm paralyzed at this point. He's a foot taller, so he easily lifts and pins me against the wall with his body. We were eye level with my legs at his hips and his face inches away from mine. He licks his lips again and his tongue almost grazes my lower lip. I whimper and try to turn my head, but his hand is there to catch my cheek.

"Aw there there," He pouts and hurriedly strokes my cheek in mock sympathy before that hand goes to the back of my neck, tipping my head back a bit. The knife comes out again. "You know how I really got these scars? Hm? You wanna know?" I shake my head and try to turn my head away but he catches my chin in his hand.

"No, look at me." I look at him. This close I can see where the make-up ends and the madman underneath begins. The creases in his forehead, all the spots he missed. It's grayish in some parts when the black paint smeared, and gray-pink where the red smeared. He smells like paint.

"What's your name, princess?" I can see red smeared on his yellow but straight teeth. His breath is hot and makes goose-bumps pop up on my back and arms.

"…Bliss." My cheeks turn redder then his lips when he starts to giggle at my name, before going into a laugh that sent more chills up my spine.

"I like that, Bliss-s-s-s-s-s-s." He hisses at me like a snake, tracing the flat end of his blade against my jaw. Isn't this usually where he tells me about how he got those scars? I've heard several different versions of how... The tip of the blade traces my lower lip, all he'd have to do was press down and make me bleed.

"You've got a big mouth, Bliss-s-s-s-s. It's a cryin' shame you don't smile enough." The blade finds the corner of my mouth. "Perhaps I ought to give you one, hmm? We can be twins…" He leans in even damn closer; my nose is just barely touching his. Suddenly, he moves his head to the side a bit and bows his head, towards my neck. I can hear him breathe in through his nose.

"Hm. You smell good." He says this with his head still craned towards my neck, leaning in closer. I hear his lips smack and just barely touch my neck, making me squeak. He breathes in again before moving to be face to face with me again. I'm shaking, feelings of terror and a feeling that worries me squirm around in my stomach. Suddenly, he leans in, and drags his tongue up my cheek. I shudder, and he grins at me, cheerful all over again.

"Well I'm feeling generous tonight, so I'll cut you up at our next playtime. Okay?" The hand that was on the back of my neck grabs my face and squeezes so my lips purse like a goldfish. He gives me an exaggerated kiss, muttering 'Mmmm' and then making a 'pop' sound when our lips part. He cackles at my facial expression and does it again, flooding my nostrils with the smell of paint and hair dye and getting lipstick on my face. He drops me and my knees buckle, so he catches the back of my jacket to pull me up, dragging me to the mouth of the alley. I was so dazed all I remember is him smacking me on the ass and leaving me there, cackling as he went to take care of his unfinished business. Someone eventually walked over and asked if I was okay. I didn't answer, and wiped my face with my sleeve, only spreading the red marks. I don't know what scared me more…the fact that I was accosted by one of Gotham's worst, or the fact that I think I kinda liked it…


End file.
